Thursday, January 28, 2016

New Release! Maze for Three eBook is Available to Purchase.

On Sale Now!!

About the Book

Miah’s always had something to prove—to himself, his family, and all the people who thought he’d fail. It doesn’t matter that he has to do it all alone, he won’t give up on his dream. On the cusp of a new beginning that could mean the difference between success and failure, he decides to finally enjoy a night out at a city bar with his roommate before he leaves for the bleak interior forever. He never expected to catch the eye of two unusual men there, but are they even human?

Sure, he knows aliens sought sanctuary from the Earth Unity Coalition, but he’s never met any before… that he knows of. After all, the aliens can take human form, so it’s impossible to know them on sight, but the mystery of their kind has always interested him. When they take matters into their own hands and decide to court him in their tradition, things go horribly wrong.

Now Miah’s hurt, his dream is on the verge of disappearing forever, and the life he always saw for himself is no longer an option. They'll have to find a way through the wrong turns and dead ends to have any hope of a new path for the three of them.

Genre: Post-apocalyptic Scifi, Gay Romance
Relationship: Menage
Length: 58,359 words

Purchase at:


Three years of never taking my eyes off my goal finally caught up to me. I stood and shoved my blanket into the last open cube and sealed it shut. I put on my coat and slipped the ident strip back into my pocket. Folding the cubes down manually took nearly an hour, but my decision to have one adventure to remember hadn’t wavered.

If this strip took me to a bar, I was actually going to have a drink for once. I’d always heard the classic hop brew was to die for, even if it was made with engineered grains. Dropping off my cubes took less time than it took to compress them for transport, and before I was really ready, I was sitting on the bench in a personal tube car.

I clenched my hand around the strip. This was it. An adventure so I could say I once did something spur of the moment. Other people did this sort of thing all the time. I carefully fed the ident strip into the intake slot. The car took it, even though it wasn’t on a plastic card like usual.

My tube car took off, but I didn’t enter the aboveground system. The travel map was static on the transfer station page, not showing my path through the city, and the windows went black.

Where the hell was I going? I held on to the arms of my chair as the transport car zipped along, the speed making my stomach turn over. The trip didn’t take long before my car came to a halt. The door slid open, but I couldn’t hear any sounds—no traffic, no people.

Destination reached. Please disembark.

Like the lack of motion hadn’t already alerted me to that.

Please insert strip or credit chip if you wish to return to your origination point.

Is that the story I wanted to have? I went for a transfer ride and chickened out before I even knew where I was? No. I stood up and strode out of the car before the niggling doubts could change my mind. The car zipped away the second I stepped out.

This was not a bar. The ident strip destination was apparently an enclosed room filled with clothing, survival gear, and weapons. A lot of them.

I spun, looking for an exit.

There wasn’t one. The entrance to the transport tube was gone, like it had never been there. A smooth glass wall was left in its place. I ran my hands over it, to see if it was a holo, but it was solid.

“Hello? Anyone here? Where the heck am I?” I shouted. My voice was muted, deadened by what must be a sound dampening field inside the opaque walls. Maybe the stuff would have some clue as to where Keon had sent me, probably as a final practical joke on his rube roommate. This was what I deserved for wanting an adventure, apparently. I strode over to the jumpsuits hanging on the wall. I plucked one off the rack, holding it up. Then I saw the tag inside the collar.

Nature’s Wrath.

I dropped the jumpsuit. Oh shit. No. Just no way.

“Hey. Let me out!” I pounded on the wall where I thought the transport entrance had been. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s prey. What I was going to do was pay precious credits I couldn’t spare for a tube car so I could get back to our room. Then I could begin the process of hunting my roommate.

Keon was going to pay.

“You have ten minutes before the dome opens. A reminder for the Hunt; the rules are as follows: One—no outside clothing or gear is allowed during the hunt.”

I jerked around. A hidden holo camera projected a written list of the rules on the wall as the voice kept talking. Where was it coming from? It didn’t sound automated; was someone watching me?

“I don’t want to be a part of any hunt!” I looked around to see if there were cameras or monitors. Surely there were monitors around. No inch of the city was unmonitored.

“Two—prey receives a thirty minute head start.” Prey gets a head start? Oh hell no.

“I am not prey!” I pounded on the wall. “Somebody let me out. I didn’t sign up for this!”

“Three—prey must remain inside the agreed upon boundaries of the hunt area at all times.”

My hands were beginning to hurt. “Screw just making him pay, Keon is going to die.”

“Four—once prey has entered the dome, the hunt cannot be ended until they are caught or successfully elude capture by reaching the neutral zone. This ends the rules. Please enjoy your hunt planned by Nature’s Wrath.”

Green beams shot out of a grid in the ceiling of the dome and began to lower.

“Now what?” I eyed the lights, biting my lip. No one seemed to hear me, the holo wasn’t responding to my voice, and now the green lights were only a few feet above me.

I fought off the constriction in my muscles and sank into a crouch when they were just above my head. They didn’t stop. I dropped to the floor. “Oh Jygp, oh Jygp,” I gasped as they touched my head. Tingles turned into chills as every hair on my body stood up. I shot up as the ground lit up under me.

My clothes had disappeared.

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Author Interview: J. Scott Coatsworth with Autumn Lands

Today I'm featuring J. Scott Coatsworth with his latest release Autumn Lands, which is out tomorrow!! Check out his answers to my interview questions before you enjoy the cover and excerpt he's shared.

Who do you like best, Jerry or Tom?

Oh, always the mouse. Ever notice how the cartoon mouse is always the badass? Look at Itchy and Scratchy, or mighty mouse… I think it's a whole playing against type thing. I LOVE playing against type.

Have you ever gone out in public, realized your shirt is on backwards, and just don’t care?

Um, would you laugh if I said it was a weekly occurrence? It' not so much that I don't care – it's more that I often don't even notice. I'm kind of an absent minded professor, mostly 'cause I always have so much work to get done. And pile writing on top of that…

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

When I'm not writing or working? Sleeping. Seriously — I work something like 70-80 hours a week, and write maybe ten. When I have downtime, I try to read, and yes, grab some shut-eye.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

Hmmm… yes, those slogs when characters are going on a quest from here to there, and you have to find something to fill their time besides "look, another pretty tree."

What’s the best part of being an author?

When someone reads your story and just gets it. I believe as a writer that you have to write for yourself. If you try to write what's hot or what you think other people want to read, you'll miss the boat nine times out of ten. But when you write for yourself and a reader contacts you and says that your writing touched them—that's magic.

Do you have any writing rituals?

Just that I have a very limited amount of writing time each day, so I have to be sure my butt is in my chair at 12 PM sharp, or I won't make my goals. Oh, and there may or may not be a miniature Marvin the Martian at my desk who brings me good luck.

Your stories cover a mix of genres. Do you have a favorite to write?

My stories generally fall into two camps—magical realism or sci fi-fantasy. I like both for different reasons – sci fi-fantasy lets me explore really cool worlds and concepts that come into my brain, while magical realism tends to focus me more on character.

Is Autumn Lands an older story you wrote and revised for publication now or a new story freshly plotted?

Hmmm… that's a hard one to answer. The seed of the story was something I wrote twenty some years ago. I started it but it never went anywhere. I pulled out those few pages when I was asked to write something for a fall-themed anthology, and so it was initially published as part of Travels Though the Scarlet Equinox in November. But it's now getting a stand-alone release.

Did the characters or the plot of Autumn Lands come to you first?

The character of Jerrith was the impetus for the original scenes – the idea of being outed and running away was very much on my mind, not too long after my own coming out. The plot came much, much later, when I pulled the snippet off the shelf to write a full story. The original scene was all of 800 word long, and Jerrith's name back then was Jarris.

What kind of elves are in your story? The High Elf ethereal type or the Earth Warden nature type?

If I told you that, I'd have to kill you. Seriously. Let's just say they're not your run-of-the-mill elves.

Do you have a favorite moment in the story you can share without giving too much away?

Yes, the scene a few chapters in where Cas and Jerrith are waiting out a storm and really have a chance to slow down and talk, and connect. I loved writing these two characters. Jerrith is a little bit me, and Cas… well, Cas is Cas. LOL…

What comes next for you?

I am so busy this year. In addition to running the Queer Sci Fi site, I have two more works already scheduled. The first one, through the veil, is what I call my San Francisco Climate Change Urban Elf story – a novella in an anthology I put together with Gus Li, Sky Hegyes, and Brandon Witt that's coming out in the spring. Then there's Flames, my favorite story to date, about a gay couple in Tucson who is struck by tragedy, and what happens next. It's part of a marriage equality-themed anthology that BG Thomas pulled together for Dreamspinner, and that we're hoping will be out in late June.

I'm also writing The River City Chronicles, a weekly serial project on my blog, and am involved in another group project launching soon.

And as if that wasn’t enough, I am getting ready to submit my NaNo novel (part one of three), and have another novel project on tap.

It's gonna be a crazy year.

Thanks for having me!

WOWSERS! He really is busy. Well, let's take a look and see if we can get a clue about his elves from the excerpt... without him having to kill me. ;)

Press Kit – The Autumn Lands

Publisher: Mischief Corner Books

Author: J. Scott Coatsworth

Cover Artist: Freddy MacKay

Length: 35k

Format: eBook, Paperback

Release Date: 1/27/16

Pairing: MM

Price: 3.99


Jerrith is running. Kissed by an elf, he can't remain in his hometown of Althos any more. Not that he wanted to stay.

Caspian still hasn't figured out why he kissed Jerrith, but he's running too. Since he was exiled from the Autumn Lands, his past has been hazy, and his future uncertain.

But when a stray memory brings things into focus, the two decide to run toward something together. What they uncover will change how they see the world, and themselves, forever.


Jerrith Ladner ran down Dyer's Alley in Althos, winded but not daring to stop. He swung left down Chaplain's Lane where the lanterns cast a crazy patchwork of light across cobbles, uneven enough to give even the Night Guard pause. His lungs hurt, but he didn't slow down and didn't dare glance back.

The occasional passerby stared at him as he flashed past, but he ignored them. Several times he stumbled and fell, and blood dripped down his bare leg from a skinned knee. The outskirts of town were silent, with almost everyone already indoors for the night.

His recent past was a blur, with snatches of it flitting by in his head like birds, flapping and confusing him with their unsteady rhythm:

The kiss.

The unexpected shock of it.

The glimpse of the Autumn Lands through the Nevris man's golden eyes.

At last, exhausted, Jerrith ducked behind a low wall that ran along the fields just outside of town and looked back.

It was quiet. There was nothing but blackness crisscrossed by lamplight at even intervals.

Almost sobbing, he sat down with his back to the wall and curled up into himself, scarcely noticing the pain that traced the lines of his rib cage or even the bright line of red on his leg.

Ever so slowly, his heavy breathing eased and his jumbled mind began to sort things out.

He had been walking to the Smithy in the early morning when the Nevris caravan had passed him by, six wagons of merchandise from the Autumn Lands covered with heavy tarps, crossing through town on its way to the stables on the far side of the village. A stranger had drawn his attention—an outrider for the caravan.

Tall and slender where Jerrith was stocky and muscled, he was a young man, more or less Jerrith's own age. His blond hair had been pulled back behind his pointed ears, the mark of the Nevris. He moved with a quiet and restrained grace.

His eyes were wide and golden, and they'd met his as Jerrith crossed the town square on the way to 'prentice to the blacksmith. The man's gaze had filled Jerrith with something hot and impulsive, a sense of anticipation. Something that he had no name for.

Then he'd been gone.

Jerrith had spent the long, dizzying hours of work in the Smithy, hammering out heated metal into a new plowshare for Farmer Angus, the hot breath of the bellows tempered only by the cool springtime air from outside. Trying to forget those eyes.

The heat of the oven only served to fuel the heat he felt inside, until he thought he might explode.

Sent home at last well after nightfall, he'd heard a whispered voice from the dark alleyway between the Alchemist's shop and the Rutting Crow. Jerrith had looked around to see if anyone was watching, then slipped into the alley, his heart beating faster and the bulge in his pants stiffening.

The man had kissed him hard and rough, and he'd returned the kiss passionately as the Nevris man pulled him close.

Buy Links

Mischief Corner Books (info only):

Author Bio

Scott has been writing since elementary school, when he and won a University of Arizona writing contest in 4th grade for his first sci fi story (with illustrations!). He finished his first novel in his mid twenties, but after seeing it rejected by ten publishers, he gave up on writing for a while.

Over the ensuing years, he came back to it periodically, but it never stuck. Then one day, he was complaining to Mark, his husband, early last year about how he had been derailed yet again by the death of a family member, and Mark said to him “the only one stopping you from writing is you.”

Since then, Scott has gone back to writing in a big way, finishing more than a dozen short stories – some new, some that he had started years before – and seeing his first sale. He’s embarking on a new trilogy, and also runs the Queer Sci Fi ( site, a support group for writers of gay sci fi, fantasy, and supernatural fiction.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Exclusive Excerpt: Life is a Stevie Wonder Song by V.L. Locey

Today I'm hosting an exclusive excerpt as part of V.L. Locey's blog tour promoting her new book, Life is a Stevie Wonder Song. Check out all the book details, and the excerpt, but don't miss out on your chance to win a digital copy for your very own!



TITLE: Life is a Stevie Wonder Song

AUTHOR: V.L. Locey

PUBLISHER: Torquere Press

COVER ARTIST: Brandon Clay

LENGTH: 24,600 words

RELEASE DATE: December 30, 2015

BLURB: Authors know that their muse is a fickle creature. Best-selling spy novelist Stephen Ramsey has been in a hate-hate relationship with his inspiration for months. When Stephen's publisher lays a legal ultimatum upon him, with a rapidly approaching deadline, he knows he must do something to kick-start his creativity or face the unemployment line. His daughter comes up with a possible answer: a summer camp for the creative soul. With nothing to lose, Stephen packs up his laptop, phonograph and beloved record albums and heads from Greenwich Village to the Catskill Mountains.

There, among a horde of college students attending for extra credits, is Declan Pomeroy, a photographer of fey creatures who is twenty-two years younger than Stephen. The woods are a magical place, and he quickly finds himself falling under the spell of the free-spirited photographer. Confusion wars with desire inside Stephen as he succumbs to the feelings welling up inside. But, sadly, summer camp always has to end. Can a man who has just found himself really leave the person that makes his heart sing?


I turned to Bridgette, getting close to her ear this time.  “So — how is this happening?  What’s Brayzen Mapleridge doing here?  That is him, right?
“Uh-huh,” she says without taking her goo-goo eyes off him.  It’s like she’s hypnotized, practically comatose.
Accepting that Bridgette isn’t going to be much help right now, my eyes scan the crowd and I’m able to recognize the top of Tom’s balding head.  He’s ‘front row’, where the center square joins the sidewalk that leads to the house, standing outside the barricades with his back to me.
I have to find out what’s going on.  I push through some people.  Stepping over more Christmas junk, I make my way down the yard toward him.     
Meanwhile, Brayzen’s female ‘police officers’ remove his leather jacket and the male ‘prisoners’ replace it with a bright orange Department of Corrections work vest.  He nods and shrugs, but then smiles mischievously.  His perfect rows of teeth twinkle in the sun. 
He wags his finger at the dancers and slips the vest off along with his shades before pulling at his shirt, lifting it to reveal a set of rippling washboard abs to the squealing rapture of his fans.
Lifting it higher, he shows his smooth, toned chest.  The crowd is practically orgasming at this point. 
He peels it the rest of the way off and uses it to wipe his torso down, dabbing his neck and under his arms.  Several in the crowd, both females and males, drop from fainting.  I’m hoping Bridgette isn’t one of them.
Then:  I see him fling the shirt in the air, like a pizza chef tossing dough.  I see it leave his hands.  I see it hurtling toward me. 
And then:  This wadded-up ball of damp, white cotton lassos itself around my head, veiling my entire face.  All at once, I’m blind.  My nose and mouth are muffled.  When I try to breathe, my lungs are choked by the sweet musk of Brayzen Mapleridge’s scent. 
I pull at the fabric, trying to free myself, but I trip over something in the yard and my legs are instantly swept out from under me.  A mob of hardcore fans tackle me, pinning me to the ground.  Greedy fingers claw at my face.  I try to shield myself from being kicked in the ribs and trampled by a tornado of anonymous sneakers, knees, and elbows.
          After what feels like several minutes of abuse, someone finally snatches the shirt off my face and it’s ripped apart by opposing parties before being flung into the air again, causing the crazed teenage swarm to dive elsewhere for it, like a flock of hungry seagulls.

Author Pic

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and three Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.

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Winner’s Prize: Digital Copy of Life is a Stevie Wonder Song